Here Pleasure steers her painted barge

Here Pleasure steers her painted barge— Joy smiling on the prow; And soon her votaries roam at large On thy romantic brow; Now gazing o’er the dark-blue sea,— Now seated on the ground, The cold collation circles free, While every heart is big with glee, And jests are passing round; And as the malt foams by in tides, Droll Humour holds his shaking sides; While on their feet, a joyful band Tread lightsome measure, hand in hand, To the violin’s dancing voice, Mellow’d with the flute’s deep tone, That bids them, while they may, rejoice, For Pleasure’s blossoms soon are blown.